Remus was peacefully sleeping, waiting for Madam Pomfrey to come wake him up and take him to the Shrieking Shack.

He was having a pretty good nap, which was surprising for the day of the full moon. Even though his limbs ached all over and his chest hurt every time he breathed too deeply, he was sleeping well (albeit, with the help of a Sleeping Draught), and he was even dreaming.

In the past, Remus had had many problems with nightmares. After a monster had emerged from his window so many years ago, nightmares tended to crop up whenever he slept next to one. There was no window in Madam Pomfrey's office, but he'd still had the occasional nightmare in the Hospital Wing—he'd had phases when he'd dreamed of murdering his friends on a full moon, and, at the beginning of the year, he'd dreamt of fire.

But he did not have a nightmare today. The dream was weird, definitely, but it wasn't a nightmare. He dreamt that he was sitting in Defense Against the Dark Arts, listening to Dilley lecture about curses. Then a train burst into the room, which was somehow far more amusing than scary.

Before Remus' eyes, the room turned into an ocean. James was the only one with scuba gear, so he was ushering students out one by one. Godric Gryffindor swam in, doing the butterfly, and Dumbledore entered in a swim cap with purple daisies.

Remus heard snuffles and clawed footsteps, but he wasn't afraid. It wasn't a werewolf; it was only Max walking into the submerged room with his own scuba gear. Remus didn't even question why Max had scuba gear. Max was, after all, a very clever dog.

Then Remus realized that the snuffling was a different noise, somehow. It was… realer. Not quite confined to the dream world. Right next to him, perhaps?

Before he could even register this thought, he was awake, it was about two-thirty in the afternoon, and Max (clever dog extraordinaire) really was sniffing around Remus' room… because of course he was.

Remus pulled the sheets to his chest and sat up. "Max?" he said tentatively.

Max looked up and stared.

"Er." Now Remus wasn't sure what to say. Would Max respond? He talked to Dilley, so could he talk to Remus? "I'm told you can understand English?"

For a long while, Max didn't do anything. And then, out of nowhere, he nodded.

"Oh, dear," muttered Remus. "The dog understands English."

Max looked back down and started sniffing at Remus' bag so determinedly that Remus wondered if the nod had been a fluke. It could have been, after all. Dogs moved their heads around all the time. Perhaps Max had seen Remus talking to him and had tilted his head in a manner that only looked like a nod.

"Was that a fluke?" Remus wondered aloud. "Hey, Max. If you can hear me, could you nod again?"

Max did not nod.

"All right, it was probably a fluke," Remus conceded. "Wait, no. What am I saying? The dog can fly a broomstick, so understanding English honestly wouldn't be that surprising at this point. Besides, Dilley says you've been talking to him. Can you talk, Max?"

Nothing, not even a nod.

"Why are you looking in my bag?" asked Remus.

No response.

"All right, Max, I'm going to be perfectly honest with you. You've been following me around a lot recently, and it makes me a bit uncomfortable. You also somehow knew I was a werewolf, according to Dilley, and that definitely makes me uncomfortable. It seems like you suspect me of something—which I suppose is fine—but all the same, I'd like to remind you that there's no cause to search my things."

Max kept rooting around in Remus' bag.

"Nothing is in there. Well, I mean. Some things are in there, but it's all just stuff I need for full moons. I bring it to Madam Pomfrey's office in that bag instead of bringing my whole trunk, because it's easier… and a little less suspicious, I s'pose, if someone were to spot me in the corridor. But the only things that are in that bag are my transformation robes—they disappear when I'm a wolf and appear again when I'm human, so they save me at least a little bit of dignity—silver and Dittany for my wounds once I'm transformed back; a few books, including textbooks so that I can work on some homework assignments; parchment and ink because I know I'll have to write to my parents… and a few other things, too, but none of them are dangerous or suspicious in any way. I promise."

Max did not respond.

"Look, Max…"

Max didn't even nod.

"I'm tired of this. I'm only thirteen years old—a couple of months away from fourteen—and I haven't done anything wrong. I lock myself up on full moons. I've never hurt a soul, and it would destroy me if I did."

Max didn't acknowledge that, so Remus felt the need to emphasize it.

"Destroy me, Max. I wouldn't be able to go on if I killed someone on the full moon; I'm sure of it. So if you could just stop following me around like you suspect me of something, that would be really nice. I'm tired of being the villain all the time. I'm only a kid, not a Death Eater."

Max kept sniffing.

"Don't you trust Dumbledore? You're a very clever dog, so of course you do. Everyone who's clever trusts Dumbledore. Professor Questus trusted Dumbledore, and he hardly trusted anyone."

No response.

"Max. Please. Let me sleep. The full moon is tonight, and I feel like rubbish. Please just leave me be."

Max stopped sniffing, and Remus thought for an instant that he was finally about to leave. But he didn't—he merely plodded over to a table, his claws clicking on the hardwood floor as he did so, and stood on his hind legs to reach it. Remus watched as he grabbed a spare blanket with his teeth before walking back to Remus and tossing it on his lap.

Remus looked at Max in awe. "Er... thanks," he said. "You can understand me, can't you?"

But Max didn't nod; he merely went back to the table and fetched another Sleeping Draught.

"I don't need that," said Remus, but Max set it down on Remus' bedside table anyway. When Remus didn't take it, Max nosed it closer to Remus impatiently.

"I really don't need it," said Remus. "I'll fall back asleep as soon as you leave."

But Max didn't leave. He simply sat down once again next to Remus' bag, giving Remus a pointed look as if he was saying, Nope, I'm staying right here, and started going through the bag with more determination than before.

"Ah, fiddlesticks," muttered Remus, and then he took a very small sip of the Sleeping Draught and drifted off to sleep once again.

He woke up, saw the contents of his bag lying on the floor,, and saw Max in the middle of it all with a cocked head.

Then he fell back asleep, because it definitely wasn't worth it.

Madam Pomfrey came to collect him around five-thirty, just like always. "Where's Max?" asked Remus sleepily as Madam Pomfrey gently pulled him to his feet.

"Max? The dog? Well, I suppose he's with Professor Dilley."

"But… Max. He was here. In here. With me."

Madam Pomfrey was used to post-moon rambling from Remus, Remus knew, but pre-moon rambling was often cause for concern. "Are you all right?" she asked. "Is this going to be another terrible full moon?"

"I can't tell, I can never tell. That's why I'm doing the Arithmancy project." Remus yawned. "Look, Madam Pomfrey. Look at my bag. Max went through it and left everything on the… oh." Remus looked at the floor, only to see that his things had been neatly placed back into his bag—his transformation robes had even been folded. "Max folded my clothes," he said incredulously. "Talking is one thing. Riding a broomstick is another. But… Max doesn't even have hands!"

"I'm sure it was just a funny dream," said Madam Pomfrey. "You do tend to get those around full moons, don't you? Now why don't you get changed and we'll walk down to the Willow together?"

"Sure," mumbled Remus. But, as he pulled on his transformation robes and changed out of his good socks, he couldn't stop thinking about how incredibly real it had felt.

Perhaps Max really was a very clever dog, even in his dreams.

James Potter usually didn't like full moons, on account that one of his best mates was suffering. Today, though—today he was excited.

"All right, folks," said James, rubbing his hands together in excitement. "We've planned this for a long time. We've done our research over Christmas holidays, we've read the literature, we've made a plan, and we've gathered our materials. Today is the perfect day to start: Moony's out of the way, Gryffindor doesn't have another Quidditch game for a month, and we've still got plenty of time for the other steps. I suspect we'll have it all done by Christmas next year."

Sirius groaned. "Thank goodness we're starting. I am absolutely sick of all this research."

"Same here," said Peter with a frown. "Honestly. How much do we need to read about the process before we actually do it?"

"You're one to talk, mate," said James. "You'll need the most research out of all of us."

"That's not very nice."

"Look, lads, we have to do our research first or else we'll end up as half-animal freaks. Moony would yell at us until our ears bleed, and I can't lose my good looks."

"A half-animal freak might be an improvement for you, mate," said Sirius nonchalantly.

James gave him a dirty look and continued speaking. "I think we've done all we can, though, and today is finally the day. Step one: put Mandrake leaves in our mouths, hold them in there, and wait a whole month."

"Ugh," said Sirius. "I bet they taste like rubbish."

"Probably. Let me go over the plan one more time."

"Prongs, no," said Sirius, groaning even more violently. "We've done this about a thousand times. We know the plan. We've approved the plan. I know you get excited about plans and all, but we really don't need to hear the stupid plan again."

"Padfoot, my dearest friend," said James patiently, "the Chudley Cannons won exactly two Quidditch games last year. If you took that number and then subtracted the number of games that Puddlemere United won, then you'd have the approximate amount of how much I care about your useless complaints."

"But Puddlemere United won about thirty games," said Sirius.

"Exactly, because the amount that I care about what you want has descended into negative numbers. So here's the plan: we're going to find as many loopholes as possible in the steps outlined in the official books, because Marauders only ever follow rules loosely and in a sneaky sort of way."

"We know," said Sirius and Peter.

"We've already checked the other books in order to make sure our loopholes will work, so we don't have to worry about that."

"Yes, we were there," said Sirius and Peter.

"And we know we have every single book about Animagi possible, because we nicked loads of books from the Restricted Section while Remus was sleeping."

"We remember," said Sirius and Peter.

"Even though we got caught once and got detentions from Filch."

"We remember that, too," said Sirius and Peter.

"The first step is to place Mandrake leaves in our mouths for a whole month, but the book doesn't say how big the leaves have to be."

"You've said that already," said Sirius and Peter.

"So we'll take a leaf and then shrink it with magic to be about the size of a fingertip. And then we'll change its color to match the roofs of our mouths, about!"

"We know," said Sirius and Peter.

"And then, in order to make sure they stay in our mouths for a whole month, we'll use a temporary Sticking Charm. It has to be temporary, because we need to make sure the leaf can be removed when the month is up. If we reapply the charm every morning, though, it'll keep us from swallowing the leaves while eating, talking, or sleeping."

"We're aware," said Sirius and Peter.

"And then… boom! That's that! Step one will be finished, and Moony'll never suspect a thing!" James rubbed his hands together again. He was beginning to look quite evil. "It's all coming together, Marauders," he said, donning a perfectly evil smile to match his very evil hands.

Remus watched the sky through the small slat in the boards. He was shivering. Despite the fact that Dumbledore had placed Warming Charm after Warming Charm on the Shack, continued to fix up the furniture after every moon, and had built a small fire (protected with many charms so that Remus wouldn't burn himself in his murderous frenzy)… the Shrieking Shack felt anything but homey. Remus would have never admitted that, though, because he knew how hard Dumbledore had worked to make it as convenient as possible for Remus. It felt ungrateful to feel this way, but Remus felt it nevertheless.

He shivered, but not just because he was cold. He shivered because he was afraid. He shivered because he was anxious. He shivered because he was fearful. Were those all the same thing? Remus didn't have the presence of mind to know nor care.

He also shivered because that was just what he did before a full moon: He quivered, no matter the weather or emotion. "Like a triple shot of adrenaline," Professor Questus had once said, "because of the physical pressure." It wasn't an emotional thing; it was just a werewolf thing. So Remus shivered.

And, as he shivered and quivered, the sky between the slats seemed to be quivering as well. There was so much movement when one was paying attention. The stars were twinkling, the wind was blowing, and Remus' senses were heightened to the point that he could hear everything. He could hear the villagers in Hogsmeade, even.

Soon, they would hear him.

Remus tried not to think about that. He focused on the world, quivering and alive, outside the slats—and he focused on his body, alive but quivering, imprisoned in the Shack.

Quivering meant a lot of things, but quivering meant alive, and Remus—despite how hard things had been since Professor Questus had died (and before that)—was happy to be alive.

Until the moon rose.

"Madam Pomfrey," said Remus through gritted teeth. "You're hurting me. Seriously."

"Well, what do you want me to do?" asked Madam Pomfrey tersely. She was trying to apply silver and Dittany to one of Remus' wounds, but the wound was rather deep and it was terribly painful to the touch. "I can stop healing you if you'd like, but it'll hurt even worse."

"Give me a Sleeping Draught," suggested Remus (well, it was more of an order than a suggestion, really). "Please. This is unbearable."

"I've already given you a Pain-Relieving Potion. You could handle the pain with the potion in months past, could you not? What happened to tiny first-year Remus who told me 'I'm not in pain' right after the first full moon in the Shack? You were crying and shaking all over, and then told me, 'I'm not in pain, Madam Pomfrey.' What happened to him?"

"First of all, he wasn't crying. The tears are from the pressure. There's a difference."

"Sure. Fine."

"And, second of all, he was lying. He was definitely in pain."

"Well, I knew that. It was quite obvious. My point is: you never complained so much when you were younger. You've had much worse injuries than this, but you just always sat there, white-faced and silent, and didn't say a word."

"Well, what happened to the Madam Pomfrey who told me that I wasn't allowed to say the word fine, the Madam Pomfrey who asked—no, begged—me to complain, who told me that I had to talk, and who said, 'I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong'? What happened to her?"

"She is currently very happy," said Madam Pomfrey with a smile. "Trust me, I've wanted you to communicate with me like this for years. I'm not complaining; I just want to know what inspired the change in attitude."

"Probably Professor Questus. He was always one for telling the truth. I think it might be his influence."

Madam Pomfrey suddenly pressed Remus' wound a little harder than she'd been doing, and Remus yelped. "Madam Pomfrey!"

"Sorry, sorry," Madam Pomfrey hastily assured him. "I didn't do it on purpose; I was only caught off-guard. You think it's his constant truth-telling that influenced you to be more honest with me?"

"I mean, sure. I was joking, mostly, but probably."

Madam Pomfrey was silent for a while, and then she handed Remus a Sleeping Draught (at long last) and said, "Yes, he just told the truth all the time, that man. Especially to you. About every single thing, no matter how big or small. Everything. Didn't he?"

Remus was taken aback by her tone: it almost sounded like sarcasm, but Remus had no idea why it should be. "Erm, yeah," he finally said, utterly bemused. Then he downed the Sleeping Draught in one gulp and fell asleep.

The last thing he saw was Madam Pomfrey's angry face looking off into the distance, as if she were reprimanding Professor Questus (wherever he was).

Merlin's beard, was his last coherent thought. What was that all about?

When Remus woke up, James was staring deeply into his eyes.

"Ack!" Remus shouted, throwing off his blankets and accidentally hitting James in the face. "James! Prongs! Lovely, amazing mate of mine. WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"

"Sheesh, don't bite my head off," said James. "Ahahaha. Bite. Werewolf. That's funny."

"I am not in the mood to entertain your stupid werewolf jokes, James Salazar Potter. Tell me why you're here and tell me how I can get rid of you."

James grabbed a pillow and sat on the bed, shoving Remus to the side to give himself more room. "So, here's the thing," he said, placing his pillow next to Remus' and lying down on Remus' bed. Remus was still sitting up, and he had no desire to lie down again—not when James was so disregardful of his injuries.

"Yeah?" asked Remus. "What's the thing?"

"Well, the thing is, first of all, that my middle name is not Salazar."

"Okay."

"And the thing is, second of all, that I snuck here under the Invisibility Cloak, since I knew Poppy wouldn't let me in while you were napping. And then I put a Soundproofing Charm on the door…."

Remus grimaced. That explained why all the normal scents and sounds of the main ward had completely disappeared. "Yeah, I can tell," he said.

"Of course you can, you superhuman little wizard. But with a Soundproofing Charm, you won't hear Poppy coming whenever she wants to come in here and helicopter you… so I should probably take it off to avoid any unwelcome surprises. That means you've got to be quiet, though."

"I'll decide whether I should be quiet or not along the way. I make no promises."

"For you, Moony, that's basically a 'I promise on my life and my future children'," said James with a shrug. "You're too eager to please everyone." He removed the Soundproofing Charm with a lazy wave of his wand, and then he turned back to Remus and started speaking with a significantly quieter voice. "Guess what?"

"What, James?"

"The gang and I are making good progress with our three-person project!"

Remus felt a bit left-out, as he so often did nowadays. James had said "the gang", and Remus was not a part of "the gang". He was just Remus. He was a Marauder, but he was not part of the Deluxe Marauders; the Exclusive Marauders—he just wasn't good enough, he supposed. Envy flooded his heart, but he didn't let it show. In through his nose. Out through his mouth. "Does that mean you'll be done soon?" he asked.

"Nah, probably not. But we started on Part One last night, and—"

"You just started Part One? What have you been doing this whole time?"

"Researching for Part One. But now we've started, and we've got some time to kill before we can start Part Two… so I have time to visit you in the Hospital Wing whenever you want! If I'm going to be top of the form, I'm going to need to study harder. We should work on Ancient Runes and Arithmancy together!"

Whatever envy Remus had had previously was promptly sapped from his chest, draining from his body as quickly as his sanity drained from his mind on a full moon. His friends were going to spend more time with him in the Hospital Wing, and Remus would gladly sacrifice being part of the Deluxe Marauders for such a treat. "Yes, please," he said eagerly. "That sounds brilliant."

"Good. We can start now. I've a Muggle Studies project due tomorrow and I haven't started—it's on Muggle surgeries. I need you to tell me everything you know on the matter, Mr. Muggle Surgery Expert."

"What a dumb nickname."

"Don't care. Live up to it, my friend. Go."

So Remus did.

Madam Pomfrey did end up catching them a little bit later, but she didn't seem to mind; she only smiled and sat next to Remus' bed, offering her own thoughts and experience with Muggle surgeries. She was a Healer, after all, and she knew a fair bit on the topic.

When she finally forced James out, citing the fact that Remus needed to sleep, James left without much complaint. Remus watched him go, wondering why on earth James had smelled of Mandrakes (and why he'd been talking a bit oddly; almost cautiously).

But it didn't matter, so long as Remus' friend was finally spending more time with him. Company kept the grief away, so Remus needed as much company as he could get. If he just had that, then he'd forget all about the mysterious Mandrake matter and the three-person project.

Well. For now, at least.